


outshine the morning sun.

by owlsii



Series: poetry in motion [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Ableism, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Alexander Hamilton, Autistic Philip Hamilton, M/M, Maria Reynolds/Elizabeth Schuyler (mentioned), Poetry, Social Worker Maria Reynolds, Stimming, Stuttering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsii/pseuds/owlsii
Summary: Alexander and George are going through the adoption process. When they're introduced to Philip, a child in foster care, they know immediately that he'll be the perfect fit.





	outshine the morning sun.

**Author's Note:**

> all of the chapter aren't going to be 3k words long but this one kinda got out of hand oops
> 
> anyway, hello! i'm so excited to share this fic especially because school's been kicking my ass lately. but i got it done! and it's gonna be so sappy you guys i can't wait

Alexander paced around the living room, speaking quietly to himself, a repetitive jumble of words that George couldn’t make out from his seat on the couch. They were both dressed nicely, or, at least, a little nicer than their usual Sunday pajamas.

Today was the day that they would be meeting Philip, a child in foster care that they wanted to adopt. After three months of home inspections and training, they were ready to meet him. And Alexander was losing his mind.

“Sweetheart, maybe don’t wear yourself out before they even get here?” George suggested kindly, ignoring the ache in his own stomach. He patted the cushion next to him. “Sit down.”

Before his boyfriend could do anything, there was a knock on the door. Alexander’s heart stopped, and then started again, pumping so fast it probably could’ve been seen through his chest. He shot a panicked look at George, who slowly stood up. At the same time, they both turned and ran to the door. Alexander opened it, forcing his lips into what he hoped was a welcoming smile.

“Hey there!” he said cheerfully. He caught the gaze of the social worker and quickly looked away, instead opting to look at the foster parents. John and Abigail Adams. They looked very sweet, he had to admit. And then he looked down at the child. “I’m guessing you’re Philip?”

The boy nodded shyly and stepped back a little. He bumped into Abigail, who rested a hand on his shoulder. Philip was tiny, or at least he seemed so, among the five adults. He was rubbing the hem of his t-shirt, which hung loosely on his small frame. Curly hair hid his face, and he was looking at the ground, but Alexander could see the freckles dotting his skin.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Alexander. This is George,” he introduced, gesturing to his boyfriend. Philip glanced up at the two for a moment.

“Hey, Philip! Why don’t you guys come in? The hallway’s pretty cramped.” George gently pushed Alexander back into their apartment. He held the door open as Philip was led inside, practically clinging to Abigail.

“Welcome to our place!” Alexander said, backing into the living room and holding his arms out dramatically. The adults’ gazes scanned the room, most likely looking for any imperfections to criticize. “It might seem a little small, but it’s actually got quite a bit of space. Kinda like the TARDIS from Doctor Who. Do you know that show? It’s one of my favorites.”

Philip nodded slowly. Alexander grinned.

“I’ll grab a few chairs from the kitchen.” George walked away, hearing Alexander ramble excitedly to Philip about his favorite Doctors. As he walked back into the room, dragging the chairs behind him, he called, “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” Alexander answered, looking up.

“Don’t overwhelm him on his first visit,” he chuckled, setting out the chairs. Alexander blushed. “There. Now we can all sit.”

Alexander and George sat in the kitchen chairs, along with the social worker. She was around the same height as Alexander, and wore a nice-looking suit. A laptop and a few file folders rested on her lap as she silently examined the room. She looked slightly familiar, Alexander thought. Her name started with... M? Mary?

Philip squished himself between John and Abigail on the couch. George could see that the poor boy was shaking like a leaf.

“Do you want to introduce yourself, honey?” Abigail questioned Philip gently. His head snapped to look at her and his eyes widened in fear. “It’s okay. They’re not gonna hurt you, or judge you. Right?”

She gave a pointed look at the two men. Alexander nodded quickly, and George smiled. It seemed to relax the boy, because he took a deep breath.

“Um, m-my name’s Philip,” he said quietly, playing with his hands in his lap. “I’m s-six. Um...”

He looked at Abigail for help on what to say next, but George spoke first.

“Nice to meet you, Philip. My name’s George,” he said. And then he added, “And I’m thirty-eight.”

“I’m Alexander. He’s old.” He grinned, earning a tiny laugh from Philip. “I’m twenty-seven.”

“What k-kinda stuff d-do you like?” Philip stuttered, swinging his legs slightly and staring at the carpet. “B-Besides Doctor Who.”

“I’m into a lot of stuff,” Alexander declared. George could feel an infodump approaching. But surprisingly, all he said was, “But mostly, I like writing. I work as a journalist for a newspaper. Even though I’m really super into poetry.”

Philip’s face lit up and his eyes seemed to sparkle.

“I-I like poetry, t-too!” he said, slightly louder this time. “I’m not very good, though. I have a no-no-notebook just for my poems! D-Do you have one?”

“No. I use my laptop. But I do have—” Alexander cut himself off and ran to the bookshelf, where he pulled out a book. The cover, which he commissioned his friend Laurens to paint, depicted the night sky, except the moon was shining as bright as the sun. He handed the book to Philip, who took it eagerly. “—this! I wrote everything in there.”

Philip’s eyes went wide. John smiled and leaned back on the couch. He shot Abigail a knowing look. She nodded and leaned over slightly to read over Philip’s shoulder.

“L-Lessons in loving the mid-midnight sun,” Philip read the title. He looked up at Alexander, who nodded excitedly. He opened the book and flipped through the pages, eyes flicking over the poems. As he read, his swinging legs picked up speed until he was almost kicking the couch.

George wrapped an arm around Alexander’s shoulder. Philip’s grin grew by the minute. The social worker stared at Alexander, who was grinning eagerly. Recognition seemed to spark in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything.

“These are a-amazing!” Philip said, looking up at Alexander. His head tilted to the side. “B-But... not a lot of them rhyme?”

“It’s called freeform. Or free verse,” Alexander explained. Philip handed the book back. “I’ve performed a lot of them. For me, I enjoy the rhythm I create when I speak them out loud. I can show you sometime, if you want.”

“That would be real-really cool,” Philip said excitedly.

“Can I talk to one of you?” John interrupted. “Somewhere private.”

Philip tensed and looked down at the floor. Abigail rubbed his back comfortingly, paying no attention to the fact that his legs had stopped swinging. George glanced at Alexander, who shrugged.

“I’ll talk to you,” George said. He stood up and led John into the kitchen. He let his hand trace the cold marble of the countertop and then leaned against it. John stood awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Listen... I know you’ve read as much of Philip’s files as they’ve let you,” John started. “But that’s not all of it.”

George raised his eyebrows to show that he was listening. A million different possibilities of what the man could be referring to flew through his mind. John cleared his throat.

“I mean, everything is there. I’m just not sure that you know how to... for lack of a better word, handle, his needs.” John shuffled his feet. Obviously, he was nervous about admitting this, especially with how it sounded.

“Well, we’ve both researched type one diabetes enough to understand how to care for it,” George said, hoping that Philip’s autoimmune condition was what John was talking about. “And with how long he’s been diagnosed with it, and how old he is, he’s probably better at it than we’ll be.”

“That’s true,” John chuckled. Then his face fell. George knew exactly what was coming. “But I’m not really talking about that. It’s the... uh...”

“Philip’s autistic,” George stated. He stopped himself from sighing. The man couldn’t even say ‘autism,’ like it was a dirty swear word. George wondered if he could handle saying ‘fuck.’ John nodded at George’s statement, embarrassed blush creeping up his cheeks. “Don’t worry. I know that not every autistic person is the same, but I’m very close with someone like him.”

“Oh,” John said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well. I guess that’s okay, then... Uh, we were told that we’re staying for dinner?”

“Yes. We thought about just ordering pizza,” George explained, trying very hard to keep a straight face. “Is that alright?”

John nodded. He seemed even more embarrassed now, after ‘confessing.’ George felt anger bubble in his stomach. No one should be ashamed of having an autistic child. No one should be ashamed of being autistic. George was suddenly glad that Alexander didn’t choose to talk to John, because then the talk would’ve escalated into a screaming match, and he didn’t want that to be Philip’s first impression of them.

George took out his phone to call the pizzeria as John awkwardly slunk back into the living room.

“I used to be super into doctor stuff,” Alexander was saying, leaning over the coffee table. “Once, George burned his hand, and I fixed it.”

“How’d he b-burn it?” Philip asked, completely enthralled in the conversation.

“We were cooking squid.” Philip made a face. Alexander laughed. “I know right? It tastes really bad. We ended up accidentally burning it, anyway, so neither of us could eat it.”

Philip giggled as John sat down again. He watched Alexander talk animatedly with Philip, who was nearly kicking the couch as he swung his legs back and forth. Alexander’s leg bounced repeatedly, and he was fluttering his fingers a little. John’s lip twitched up in a smile. Maybe this was a good home for Philip, after all.

~

“The pizza’s here!” George called, shutting the door with his foot and carrying the boxes into the living room. “There’s not enough room at our kitchen table, since it only seats four. So this is a special occasion.”

“I love eating in here,” Alexander said. He stage-whispered to Philip, “It’s ‘cause I can watch TV and eat at the same time!”

“Sweetheart, can you bring in the plates?” George interrupted, tapping Alexander’s arm. He nodded and raced off to the kitchen.

“Why do you c-call him sweetheart?” Philip asked, tilting his head.

“We’re boyfriends,” George said, grinning a little as he said it. “Although we won’t be for long.”

“Why’s th-that?” Philip asked.

“Alexander proposed to me.” George’s heart swelled as his boyfriend entered the room. He remembered every moment of that morning. “It was very thoughtful and sweet, and I said yes. We’re going to get married soon.”

“You keep saying ‘soon,’ but we still haven’t discussed it yet,” Alexander said with raised eyebrows, setting the plates down. He kissed George on the cheek, silencing his adorable attempts at an excuse.

They ate quietly, having quick conversations about the Adams’ jobs, where they lived, and other small talk. John was a lawyer and Abigail worked from home as the editor for a newspaper.

“Oh, nice!” Alexander exclaimed. “I’m a journalist, but I think we work for different papers. I work for  _ Rochambeau _ . What about you?”

“ _ The King’s Journal _ ,” Abigail said. She smirked. “I’m guessing we’re rivals now?”

“Ha! No way,” Alexander laughed. “You’re too cool to work at  _ King’s _ .”

“Aw, thanks,” Abigail said, grinning. “What about you, George?”

“I’m the financial manager at Schuyler Fashion,” George answered, setting down his empty plate.

“Really?” John questioned.

“Yeah! We know the siblings, actually,” Alexander bragged. George rolled his eyes.

“Philip met them once, didn’t you, honey?” Abigail said, nudging the silent boy with her hand. She turned to Alexander and George. “He loves all their clothing lines. Even the dresses! Philip?”

Philip was playing with his fingers in his lap, twisting them in a pattern. He kept his mouth shut, glancing around the room. Abigail’s lips pursed.

“Philip, what’s up?” John asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. The boy tensed, but didn’t say anything.

“Sweetie, use your words,” Abigail said quietly, rubbing his back. At that phrase, Alexander felt his blood boil with rage. George rested a hand on his knee in a ‘I know you want to say something, but don’t say anything’ gesture.

Philip looked up at her and his eyes widened in what was clearly fear. He opened his mouth, a pained expression on his face.

“Hey, Philip,” Alexander said suddenly. Everyone looked over at him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk. I get like that sometimes, too.”

Philip’s posture relaxed at those words. He squished his hands in between his legs.

“We’ve been trying to get him to talk, when he’s like this,” John said. George narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t a good sign. “He needs to learn how to communicate.”

“There are other ways to communicate besides speech,” George pointed out, an irritated edge to his voice. Next to him, Alexander was bristling with anger, nails digging into George’s arm, knowing that if he said something, everything would go downhill, fast. “If it pains Philip to speak, shouldn’t you be accepting of this, and allow other ways to talk?”

“Uh, well—” John stuttered, eyes widening. The social worker pursed her lips, observing the interaction carefully. “How do we know he’s okay? If he just suddenly stops talking—”

“You shouldn’t speak like he’s stopped hearing, too,” Alexander interrupted, not able to contain himself. John’s face went red. George leaned down a little, catching Philip’s eyes. The boy looked away.

“If you want to be a part of the conversation,” George said gently. “Alexander has an app on his phone that you can use. You type things in, and it talks for you. Would you like that?”

Philip bit his lip in thought. Then he nodded slowly.

~

The rest of dinner went by as smoothly as it could possibly go. Philip was engaged in the conversation, using Alexander’s phone to talk to everyone. George was in the kitchen, cleaning up and talking to the Adams. Alexander was putting the chairs back. He gave Philip permission to wander around and check out the apartment.

It was adorable, really. He clutched the phone to his chest and made his way around the living room, slowly at first. He admired the ever-expanding book collection, running a hand over the book spines and mouthing the titles to himself. His eyes brightened when he saw a shelf decorated with seashells, from their numerous trips to the beach. He reached up and took a scallop shell, then walked over to the social worker, who was standing and making notes on a clipboard.

“Miss Maria?” Philip whispered, gently tugging on her sleeve.

“Maria?” Alexander's head snapped to her, and then it clicked. “Maria Lewis?”

“Yes?” she said hesitantly. Then her jaw dropped. “Wait. Alexander... Hamilton?”

“Eliza's girlfriend?”

“Eliza's ex?”

They both exclaimed at the same time. Philip tilted his head.

“She's told me so much about you!” Alexander said excitedly. “And you're in some of her Instagram posts! You two are so cute together!”

“Oh, thanks.” A blush crept onto her face and she smiled sheepishly. “She's told me a lot about you, too, but she just calls you Alex, so I didn't recognize your name. You guys dated in high school, right?”

“Yeah, but we're better as best friends, anyway,” Alexander said, waving his hand in dismissal. He grinned. “So, how are you guys? We haven't talked in a while. She's too busy being a badass and running her own company.”

“Alexander,” George interrupted, still in the kitchen. “Language.”

“Sorry,” he called back. His gaze traveled to Philip, who was still clutching Maria's sleeve. “Oh! Sorry, Philip. You can talk to Maria.”

He nodded and pressed a button on the phone.

“What kind of shell is this?” the robotic voice asked as he held up the shell. “You have a special interest.”

Alexander’s mouth dropped open as Maria took the shell and held it up.

“Hmm. I’d say this is definitely a scallop shell,” Maria said. “It’s scientific name is Pectinidae, which comes from Pecten, the genus, which means ‘comb’ in Latin. It’s because of the structure right here, next to the byssal notch, which is shaped like a comb.”

Philip listened eagerly as she explained more, while Alexander watched in amazement.

“You’re autistic too?” he blurted. Maria nodded.

“Yep. I have way too many special interests, sea life is just one of them,” she said, handing the shell back to Philip. She watched him put it back on the shelf. “I, uh... I take cases like this because I know what it’s like. And I don’t want any kid to go through what I did. Everyone deserves a home. Right, Pip?”

He hummed in agreement and hugged her arm. Alexander smiled warmly.

“Alright, sweetie, it’s time to go,” Abigail called from the hallway. Philip immediately looked up at Alexander, a frown on his face.

“Don’t worry Pip, you’ll be coming back here soon,” Maria reassured him. He held her hand and she led him to the hallway. Alexander followed, feeling an ache in his heart as he watched Philip walk away, his curly hair bouncing.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” John asked cheerfully, standing next to George at the door. “I really like you guys. I think you’ll be a good fit.”

“What about you, Philip?” George asked pointedly. He looked down at the boy with kind eyes. “How did you like today?”

“I liked it a lot,” the phone spoke as he smiled brightly. He handed the phone back to Alexander.

“Thanks, Philip,” he said. Tears threatened to form in his eyes, but he blinked them away. Why was he getting so emotional? This is the first time he’s met the kid. He shouldn’t be this upset. He gave the boy a strained smile. “We’ll see you next week!”

Philip nodded eagerly, unaware of Alexander’s internal turmoil. Still holding Maria’s hand, he waved goodbye. The door shut behind him and finally, George and Alexander were alone.

“Holy shit, that was so stressful,” Alexander breathed, leaning into George’s side. George rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “I hate the Adams.”

“Mmm,” George hummed in thought. “I don’t  _ hate _ them. I think they’ve just been taught the wrong way to think. They seem like good people, at heart.”

Alexander huffed and pulled George down by the collar, kissing him on the lips.

“Now that we’re alone...” he murmured, curling a hand around his boyfriend’s neck.

“...You can help me with my financial report,” George finished. Alexander groaned. “You promised me.”

“I did,” he relented. He stared into George’s eyes, his eyebrows raised hopefully. “But... a short makeout session first?”

George answered by pulling Alexander to his chest, cupping his cheek, and pressing their lips together.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked the first chapter!! updates will be,,, random,, but they won't take forever i promise
> 
> comments and feedback fuel my writing powers. wink wonk


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